


And Like This, Spooktober Gives Way To Gayvember

by applejwoos (kenmarcadeblues)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Crossdressing, First Meetings, Halloween, Inspired By Tumblr, M/M, Making Out, One Shot, Sharing a Bed, Trick or Treating, background jaewoo & johnil, best friends!luwoo, decent dose of crack, inaccurate portrayal of halloween in korea, the POV is kinda everywhere idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-06 21:05:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16395080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenmarcadeblues/pseuds/applejwoos
Summary: The first day of November brings a confused not-so-morning of fried rice and glitter.(or lumark in: "i just woke up in a stranger's bed and i'm half naked, i can't remember anything about yesterday besides that the party was great and that i got absolutely wasted AND OH MY GOD THERE IS A HOT PERSON NEXT TO ME AND THEY ARE NOT WEARING MUCH WHAT DID WE DO LAST NIGHT" - the au)





	And Like This, Spooktober Gives Way To Gayvember

**Author's Note:**

> happy late halloween! 
> 
> this is my first ever halloween fic. it started out simply (from the tumblr prompt in the description) but then it just kept growing into this weird thing?? i still like it though, and hopefully so do you.

Jungwoo has had enough.

 

His face is thoroughly bittered by the evening winds, people will literally not stop staring at him, and these boots were clearly not made for walking the mile or so journey Yukhei has put him through tonight. He has to admit, it was fun when they’d started out, fun the way heisting a wholly unnecessary amount of sauces at (shitty capitalist) McDonald’s is. But the feeling has since passed.

 

So why did Jungwoo agree to go trick or treating in the first place, despite being a very grown 20 year old man, you may ask? Simple, really: Yukhei is Yukhei, and the kid has a degree in persuasion.

 

(In actuality, Jungwoo is just shit at saying no to his best friend with the big eyes and the pouty lips and _ugh, god dammit Xuxi you literal embodiment of a puppy._ At least he’d been able to coerce Yukhei into the idea of a couple’s costume. That’s a definite win.)

 

Yukhei skips past Jungwoo up to the door of the next house in a flurry of jingles, the little bells in his bag knocking against scores of candy. As he’s trudging up the stairs in tow, Jungwoo thinks his treat bag feels awfully similar to a ball and chain. “Hyung,” Yukhei looks back and whines, “come on, come on!” He’s already rung the doorbell. Jungwoo sighs over-dramatically, to which Yukhei flares his nostrils disapprovingly and gestures to the doorway.

 

They collect a Snickers bar each, not without a “My, what _interesting_ costumes you have” thrown in for good measure—and as with the previous homes housing a faux-polite person, the remark is heavily directed towards Yukhei. The looks they get while walking (or existing, rather) between children—as high as their waists, sugar-hyped and in awe of the nighttime—are, too.

 

But in all fairness, Yukhei’s costume _is_ interesting, even by Jungwoo’s standards. He thought it’d be years before he’d get his bulky-bodied, masculine bestie into a dress, but here Yukhei is, green fabric brushing his thighs and matching slippers dodging candles and jack-o-lanterns littered around the edges of the sidewalk.

 

“Can we be done with this? I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of everyone staring at us like we’re disaster gays.”

 

Yukhei cackles. “We are, though. But yeah, sure; the thrill’s worn off.”

 

“Great,” Jungwoo replies, biting back a comment about how all thrills had been expelled from his body approximately 8 houses ago.

 

“So what’chu wanna do now, Zeusie-hyung?”

 

“I dunno. Watch some movies and binge eat candy I guess?”

 

They’re already vaguely going in the direction of the stop for the bus that’ll take them back to their apartment, an unimaginative little box squeezed into the heart of the city along with thousands of others. It’s got a fake black cat by the welcome mat and a thin orange curtain hanging in the doorway. The neighbors think it’s cute.

 

“Okay,” Yukhei answers easily. Less than a minute later, though, he finds himself piping up again. “What?” he asks Jungwoo’s drooping shoulders.

 

“Hm?” Jungwoo turns back briefly. “No, nothing. I’m tired, kinda.”

 

But Yukhei knows it’s a bit deeper. He knows Doyoung and Taeyong were scheduled to work this evening until who knows when; Ten has an exam tomorrow; his cool cousin had gone back to Hong Kong; none of their friends qualify as “partiers” in the first place; they’re all pathetic at coordinating anything, ever. He knows that Jungwoo treasures the idea of getting together for holidays as much as Yukhei does, and holds onto it even when reality gets in the way.

 

“You have candy, I have you, and we’ve got Netflix. It’s fine,” Jungwoo says, cutting off the younger before he can think out loud anymore.

 

And then they hear it.

 

A bassline to some energetic EDM song thrums into their ears, getting louder with each step they take.

 

Now the soles of their feet can feel it, too. Yukhei’s strides slow to a crawl in front of a house with fake spider web strewn in a thick layer and curtains pulsing with purple light.

 

“It’s fine…” the younger man trails off for a second, letting a Cheshire Cat grin animate his mouth. “But is it _really?”_

 

“Xuxi, no.”

 

“Xuxi, _yes!”_

 

And before Jungwoo can retaliate, Yukhei is making a beeline for the front door.

 

 

“Don’t,” Jungwoo pleads, but Yukhei refuses to give him the time of day, going ahead to use one hand for pressing the doorbell encased within the mouth of a tiny brass demon ( _did they get that installed just for spooky month or is it there all year round—who the hell lives here?_ ) and the other for reaching into his bag. He retrieves his bells and wand as if readying them for God knows what. Jungwoo grabs his friend’s shoulder and pulls back, but the younger man barely budges. “This isn’t, it’s not…”

 

“Shhh,” Yukhei hushes with an air of overconfidence, “I got this.” Jungwoo groans and blinks helplessly as he fidgets on the spot, adjusting his hat and smoothing the feather sticking out of it.

 

An avocado answers the door.

 

“Hey man!” Yukhei beams with jingling bells and swishing wand accompanying his words. At any other moment Jungwoo might’ve found it endearing enough to coo at but this, currently, is the stranger-who-answered-the-door’s first ever impression of Yukhei, whose goal is to crash a house party at which they presumably know nobody. And Yukhei’s method of making sure he and Jungwoo appear worthy is... _playing up his costume?_

 

A list of the perks of being buried alive suddenly begins in Jungwoo’s brain; for at times like these, it’s a great tragedy not to be living (or dying) in an Edgar Allan Poe story.

 

The avocado seems unbothered and slightly amused, however. “Hey,” he greets. “Are you two Johnny’s friends?” This conversation is in English and Avocado Boy, with pronunciation smoother than water, must be a foreigner. Sweat starts to form on Jungwoo’s hairline.

 

“No,” answers Yukhei.

 

“Jaehyun’s, then?”

 

“No, we, uh...we…” Jungwoo cringes at the use of the plural pronoun because _this was not my fucking idea, there’s no need to include me in this shit._ Yukhei clears his throat and switches to Korean instead. “We noticed this party and wondered if we could come in? It seems pretty _cool.”_

 

Avocado Boy doesn’t move. “Okay, um. Uh.” He’s staring, but it’s not out of confusion—he clearly understands Korean, he just responded in it.

 

There are two things which jump out at Jungwoo about Avocado Boy right then, as he’s on the verge of apologizing and forcing his best friend and himself far away from this disaster of an interaction: one, he looks like he could be 15 years old except no 15 year old has cheekbones like this, so sharp under that muddy-green face paint; two, he’s scrutinizing the both of them, and his eyes had lingered on Jungwoo’s close-fitting top and leggings, but now he is looking Yukhei up and down...and up and down... _and up and down._

 

Arguably the best part of tonight has been watching random people react to Yukhei. The kid is unfairly handsome on the of worst days but for Halloween, he was a sight to either behold or scorn.

 

It isn’t just the short, leaf-skirted dress. He has recently become a blond, he’s wearing blue contacts, and he allowed Jungwoo to work some magic on his face so that his wing-lined eyes sit in a fantastic whirl of subtle pinks and glitter. Call Jungwoo biased, but Yukhei’s Tinkerbell to his Peter Pan is a couple’s costume match made in heaven. And Jungwoo doesn’t plan to tell Yukhei, whose head barely fits on his shoulders as it is, but the nineteen year old looks, like, sorta gorgeous. Maybe almost the drop-dead kind.

 

And apparently, Avocado Boy is inclined to agree.

 

“We’re not dating,” Jungwoo quips, earning a wand-smack on the arm and a hmphed-out  _Jeez, really?_ from the side.

 

“Huh?” Unmistakable panic zings across the stranger’s round eyes. “Oh, no—I wasn’t, it’s not like that—I just...you both look cool—one of my hyungs is Belle. Go Disney, am I right?” Yukhei’s laughter tumbles out big and bright and the boy in the doorway is the mirror image of a deer caught in headlights.

 

Jungwoo gulps and casts a wanton glance toward the densely packed social scene lying beyond the edges of a fruit costume. “So...may we come in, Mr. Stranger?” Being on this porch is a form of purgatory, he concludes while rubbing away goosebumps, and the final judgement needs to happen sooner rather than later or else he’ll go insane. Avocado Boy can check Yukhei out, be in awe of Yukhei, woo Yukhei, _whatever he may feel compelled to do_ to his heart’s content once they’re inside and warm and perhaps, if fate is in their favor, having a grandly spooktacular time.

 

The question seems to snap Avocado Boy from his daze. “It’s Mark, and...yeah. Yeah, let’s go, come in.” Mark barely has time to step out of the way of Yukhei, who guides his wings through the doorway as he strides inside.

 

 

***

  

 

There is a distant yell, an unexpected flare shooting out from smooth waves of almost-noon. Jaehyun jumps, pausing momentarily in his effort to fry rice.

 

Last night and into the reluctant morning this house had been a storm of the best kind, but now? Now things were quiet, and the wreckage had been for the most part washed away. The living room, in particular, appeared back to normal after going at it with two extra large trash bags and a vacuum, Jaehyun thought triumphantly. _As normal as it could’ve looked with a cute Peter Pan sound asleep on the couch._

 

Jungwoo smiles. The only remnants of a party are three stains on a rug that need to be treated and a light alcoholic pinch in the air; the only remnant of a pirate costume is Jaehyun’s gold earring, dimly shining in the muted natural light from the kitchen window. Jaehyun had made a very sexy pirate, but this sweatpants-wearing, cooking and cleaning Jaehyun seems pretty great, too. “Sounds like Yukhei’s awake,” he says.

 

Jaehyun stirs the rice and then chuckles—a sound Jungwoo wouldn’t mind getting used to. “Even in the morning, huh?”

 

Jungwoo nods. “He can be quiet when he wants, but it’s just so natural for him _not_ to be.”

 

 

Yukhei opens his eyes to the digital clock display on the ceiling. 11:32am. Technically still morning. Not too bad, considering how completely wasted he’d gotten. And with this manic throb drumming away at his head, he’s halfway impressed that his body had the audacity to get conscious. 

All his classes for the day have carried on without him, but it’s not doomsday for his grades. Although memory-wise nothing much is coming back to him at the moment, that rager he crashed last night was worth all and any resulting consequences; of this, Yukhei is uncannily certain.

 

 _Wait...my room doesn’t_ have _a clock, let alone a fancy one like this..._

 

Gripping unfamiliar sheets, the young man sits up with a start.

 

This is not his room. And he’s not alone.

 

What Yukhei intended to be an exclamation instead rises to a yell in his throat and the person laying next to him sits up, too. “Wha—what’s wrong? You okay?” the mystery man rubs one sleepy eye and frowns in concern. He seems familiar but Yukhei can’t recall a single syllable of his name. And he definitely doesn’t remember anyone being hot and shirtless, but here this guy is, sharing a bed with Yukhei. (Well, _Yukhei_ is sharing a bed with _him_ , considering this is probably Mystery Man’s room. Yukhei can only daydream about a room this size with a bunch of cool music posters on the walls.)

 

“Sorry. Yeah, I’m...I’m good.” Yukhei averts his gaze before it gets awkward only to come to the realization that he’s still wearing his Tinkerbell dress...halfway, at least, with the zipper low on his spine. Perhaps he’d tried to strip completely but failed, he doesn’t know—what’s clear is that his top half is bare but his bottom half isn’t.

 

Yukhei decides on a simple approach. “Did we?” he inquires.

 

“No. Nothing happened.”

 

“Nothing-nothing?”

 

 _“Nothing-nothing?”_ Mystery Man covers his mouth as he giggles. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

 

“Like, no making out or whatever.”

 

“No, we didn’t make out. You were passed out in here and I didn’t feel like waking you up. We slept in the same bed and that’s it. I swear.”

 

“Oh,” says Yukhei.

 

“Oh?” Mystery Man’s tone is thoroughly amused. “Why do you sound like you’re disappointed?”

 

Yukhei smirks as he retorts, “Same reason why you’re drooling over my collarbones, maybe.” Mystery Man flushes as if his chiseled cheeks got splashed with watercolor paint. “Yeah, you’re not slick, dude.”

 

Mystery Man laughs guiltily before losing himself completely at Yukhei’s incessantly wiggling eyebrows, glitter interspersed into them courtesy of where the blond’s face had rubbed all over one of his pillowcases. “They’re shiny,” he wheezes, and so does Yukhei.

 

Rendered breathless, the dark-haired male shakes his head at his lap. “You...don’t even remember my name, do you?”

 

“What’s that got to do with wanting to kiss you?”

 

For one tense, fleeting moment of stillness and silence, Yukhei wonders if being bold was the wrong move.

 

But then Mystery Man is leaning in and venturing closer, asking _Is this okay?_ the whole way with his eyes. Each time, Yukhei answers affirmatively, heart beating faster. The blanket slides low on Mystery Man’s thighs, underwear tasting daylight, and when he climbs into Yukhei’s lap he’s more petite and more attractive than Yukhei dared to think. A centimeter away from a set of plush lips, the man murmurs, “Hi Yukhei, I’m Mark.”

 

Yukhei smiles into the kiss and his brain melts into a gushing stream of _Mark! Mark! Mark! Mark! Mark! Mark! Mark!—_

 

Johnny stumbles out into the living room alone, having unsuccessfully attempted to wake his boyfriend. “5 more minutes,” Taeil had whined after being gently shaken; after being not-so-gently shaken: “Sincerely fuck off, don’t you have better things to do?” Whether it was the heavy residue that alcohol left in his system, or the lingering feeling of helplessness at how the house party had escalated, Moon Taeil was in a mood. And so Johnny had stretched his long limbs by himself and prepared to be met with disaster.

 

“Morning, Jaehyunnie,” Johnny greets his housemate, arguably the most capable and reliable of the three men living under this roof. Their home isn’t enchanted in any way, doesn’t have a “get clean” spell on it, and now Jaehyun is already busy at the stove, rice sizzling in a big pan they use when cooking for guests. Johnny and Mark don’t deserve him. No one does.

 

Upon finding a Peter Pan sitting on the counter-top, Johnny’s tired features perk up. “ _And_ good morning, person who doesn’t live here.”

 

It’d be impossible to remember all the names of their guests; there were way too many to keep track of last night—and it didn’t help that Mark confessed to letting randos in off the street. Is it any wonder Johnny had to shut the function down at around 3 in the morning?

 

“I’m Kim Jungwoo. Nice to meet you,” says the polite boy with auburn hair—a jaunty green hat had been resting atop it hours before.

 

Ah, okay, of _course!_ It was _him:_ he who Jaehyun had danced with, the one who had the pirate shying away, leaning into corners, smiling and giddy. Yes.

 

So despite Johnny killing the music and shoving as many people out their front door as he felt was needed before falling ungracefully into bed, Jungwoo is, right here right now, in their kitchen. Still in their house.

 

Did he and Jaehyun sleep together? Something about the aloofness in the way Jungwoo admires his housemate’s side profile suggests no.

 

 _Jaehyun hadn’t had the heart to make him leave, huh?_ That might be closer to the truth. Admittedly Jaehyun isn’t too difficult to charm but regardless, Jungwoo has done it. Looks like it, anyway, but what does Johnny Seo know, right? Good old Johnny who decides to be a goth cowboy for Halloween because it’s a fucking concept and piles on eyeliner and smokey shadow until his eyes are like a coal mine and then at 3:27am has the decency to shed his shredded jeans and baby-pinned button up shirt in favor of pajamas but not to wipe the makeup off his face before drifting to dreamland.

 

“It’s nearly done,” Jaehyun says. “Could you get Mark out here?”

 

“Didn’t wanna ask Jungwoo to do that?” Johnny bites carelessly. He doesn’t really mean it. Jungwoo might not even know who Mark is; the whole suggestion is nothing but awkward and he only said it because he feels sensitive.

(Because Jungwoo has to witness Johnny like _this_ , with post-Hallows Eve makeup streaking his skin in some ungodly design that’s hopefully not as bad as the one on his pillowcase. Because if Jaehyun and Jungwoo become a thing—no, even if they were to never see each other again a day in their lives—Jungwoo will always go back and remember _this dude who looked like_ _a_ _fucking mess._ And you know what? That just really sucks.)

 

Before Jungwoo can hop off of his perch with a _Yeah, hyung, why didn’t you just say so, I’ll be right back_ like a good dongsaeng, Jaehyun shakes his head. “No, actually. He’s my good luck charm. Can’t you see how good this rice is turning out?”

 

One eye-roll at Jaehyun later and Johnny is skulking off towards the youngest resident’s room.

 

 

“Marrrrk!” Johnny croons as he unceremoniously opens the bedroom door, “Breakfast’s—" Mark jumps away from Yukhei like a gold medalist and yet, somehow, he’s too slow.

 

“Ready,” Johnny finishes. The light’s gone from both his voice and his eyes. Like any normal friend, all Johnny wants is to turn around and purge the previous two seconds—Mark groaning on top of some guy, said guy having his tongue down Mark's throat—from memory. But Mark can’t quite let him.

 

“Hyung, uh..." Mark breathes out before Johnny can move another muscle. "This’s Yukhei.” Yukhei gives a shy wave and Johnny smiles pathetically, forcing his legs to be still. “Could he, like, borrow something? None of my stuff’ll fit.”

 

The door opens again a few minutes later, and a long arm chucks an outfit onto the floor. Yukhei snorts and tells it thank you.

 

 

Reluctantly, Mark raises his gaze from the tragedy of Yukhei’s hands hanging in air. Those hands felt so good on his jaw, in his hair, around his hips—their heavy weight would probably feel good anywhere on him. He sits down and sets his lonely fingers in his lap.

 

He and Yukhei kissed: a little, a lot; gently, roughly; slow, and then all at once. They kissed but maybe kissing is just kissing and Mark should find peace in the saliva-inducing smell of the plate of fried rice in front of him.

 

Jaehyun making breakfast is normal. Everyone else (read: Mark can’t fry an egg, Johnny’s notorious for making homemade charcoal, and even non-resident Taeil cut himself so bad he’d almost gotten stitches) are literal disgraces to the culinary arts, so when the 21 year old started renting out a room, he had no choice but to set up shop in the kitchen. It was either that or allow them to survive by constantly going out or ordering in. Jaehyun cares greatly for his friends, though, and wants them to live well, so he does what he can. They don’t always gather around the table together to eat, but when they do, Mark feels content. Among other things, it reminds him that these four walls aren’t simply a house for three (most times four) disaster gays. It’s home, too, or something like it.

 

Having all six seats taken up at the table, however, is not normal. Yukhei is directly to Mark’s right, Johnny and Taeil are across from them, and Jaehyun and Yukhei’s friend, Jungwoo, are on the far sides, like soft-faced bookends. They are subdued but most certainly would rather be sitting next to each other; the same way that Johnny and Taeil are obviously questioning, exclusively in their heads, how and why the house gained two extra occupants. (For the record, Yukhei wasn’t sure that Jungwoo hadn’t left him here. But now that they know Jungwoo stayed over as well, Mark has to wonder where he’d slept. Jaehyun’s room?) 

 

“Cute,” Jungwoo laughs at the two newcomers. Mark pauses, then considers that Jungwoo is just being Jungwoo.

 

Until he catches three other pairs of eyes. “What?” Nobody says a thing, but they stare as if there’s something on his face. Taeil smirks from where he leans into Johnny. Mark frowns in confusion and rubs at his cheek.

 

His hand comes back covered in sparkles. He rubs again and more appear. He scrunches his nose. _What the hell?_ He only had a few drinks last night, just enough to get decently tipsy. Did he happen to block out a scenario in which he became an avante garde avocado?

 

The boy to his right crumples into laughter. “Very cute,” Yukhei declares while clapping down on Mark’s knee. From the point of contact, Mark’s eyes fly up to the blond’s happy, glittery face. _Pixie dust._

 

Heat travels all the way to the tips of Mark’s thin ears and Taeil, also known as President of the Flustered Mark Fanclub, guffaws in delight. Johnny narrows his eyes and huffs in that quietly amused way he does.

 

A hush falls over everyone as they savor their first meal of the day. Jaehyun’s skills have shone through once again; the fried rice is as good as it smells and looks, and Yukhei must share the same opinion since he tears straight through his food, barely seeming to breathe.

Once the plate beside Mark’s is empty, he feels a familiar weight on his knee. Experimentally, like dropping dye into clear water, he places his hand over Yukhei’s. New and delicate hopes are born in a thick-lipped, easy smile.

 

November is, indeed, off to a gay start.

**Author's Note:**

> i went from being a lumark anti (that's an exaggeration don't attack) to writing this. how'd i do?
> 
> !!! can you believe that in the time it took for me to post this, jaewoo went from "mmm yes good" to "ICONIC UR FAVES COULD NEVER" i mean how wild. sm town halloween never flops. thanks for reading this mess and remember to stan chennywise y'all :^)


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